


True Colors

by T Verano (t_verano)



Series: True Colors [1]
Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: 2013 TS Secret Santa Drabble Days prompt "miracle", Christmas fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-05
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2020-04-07 10:28:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19083181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t_verano/pseuds/T%20Verano
Summary: Written for the 2013 TS Secret Santa Drabble Days prompt "miracle"(Yes, the title is from the Cyndi Lauper song. :D)





	True Colors

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2013 TS Secret Santa Drabble Days prompt "miracle"
> 
> (Yes, the title is from the Cyndi Lauper song. :D)

"What the hell is that?"

Sandburg paused in the doorway, his arms full of…something. "Our Christmas tree, Jim," he said, rolling his eyes, and Jim snorted. Only Sandburg would come home with a half-pint, lopsided collection of nearly naked fir branches, more brown than green, and call it a Christmas tree.

"I think you've watched _A Charlie Brown Christmas_ too many times," Jim said flatly. "Hate to break this to you, but I doubt even the Peanuts gang could save that thing."

"Ye of little faith. Wait and see."

"Uh-huh," Jim said. "Sure, Chief. Knock yourself out."

 

======================

 

Which he hadn't meant literally, but after a fifteen-minute trip to the deli three blocks down to bring back subs for lunch, he opened the loft door to find Blair sprawled on the floor — near his goddamned tree — with his ankle tangled in a twisted-up strand of Christmas lights and a lump the size of a walnut on the side of his forehead, where he'd apparently encountered the coffee table on his way down.

The too-long nine-minute wait for EMS, during most of which Blair stubbornly refused to regain consciousness, ended up having its high points, though.

That is, after Jim found himself brushing a kiss against Blair's forehead — out of worry, out of gratitude that Blair's pulse was strong and steady, out of a whole shitload of emotions Jim wasn't going to examine too closely — and Blair chose that exact moment to wake up. And to say, "Jim? What? Ow, my head — Hey, Jim? We're doing this? Not that I'm objecting. Just aim that where I can work with it, okay? — I mean, if I'm not just hallucinating this, which would suck. Please don't let me be hallucinating —"

Jim had aimed his next kiss where Blair could work with it.

 

======================

 

"It still looks like a reject from the Christmas Tree Gong Show," Jim said. He'd given it his best shot, though, wrestling with the scraggly branches that shuddered and bent under the weight of even the lightest ornaments Blair had provided.

Blair glared at him from the couch, where he was currently benched. "I think it looks great."

" _You_ have a concussion."

Blair just glared at him harder.

It made Jim chuckle. It also made him give up on the tree and head to the couch and sit down next to Blair.

Sit down _right_ next to Blair; shoulders touching, thighs touching, which felt good. So did easing his arm around Blair and letting his fingers toy with the long, loose, ridiculously enticing curls of Blair's hair.

Strangely enough, from here Blair's Charlie Brown Christmas tree didn't look quite so bad.

Looked pretty fucking okay, actually. Somehow. Miraculously. Although maybe that was less about the tree and more about the way Blair was leaning into him, shivering just a little, as he said, "This is leading to something, right? We are having sex later?"

"Repeatedly," Jim said. As soon as Blair's head wasn't likely to fall off mid-fuck. "Count on it."


End file.
